She expressed this very well already but I guess it’s good to write about because it’s something that we really feel on a daily basis. This week alone, me and my pet ennui have been up all night trying to figure out why this supposedly adventure filled time seems a bit 2d for my taste. How is life? Flat, sometimes. Like in any horrible book, this character feels flat at times and asks out loud if Henry Miller and Pablo Picasso were right to say that life begins at forty. If it does, I’m not really keen on waiting or wasting away. Forty is a million bathroom breaks from today and by then, who’s to say who we’ll be?
But yeah. I take this to bed with me, sometimes. But as soon as the head hits the pillow, I whisper it away to the dark because anxiety is not conducive to dreaming and if reality’s a nightmare, sleep has to compensate.
In real life, I’ll probably go out tonight and give my room some breathing space. I still have so much work pending but yesterday, the boys told me not to worry but work religiously. I tried that today and felt significantly better already. Also, I need to talk to people more. Lately, conversations always end just as they’re about to begin. It’s a little sad, but I guess this is the way we are these days.
Tonight, I hope to sleep. No, I will sleep.
p.s. gif is from ilovecharts.tumblr.com